


kahneman et al.

by midzyzen



Series: pocztówka z wwa, lato '19 [4]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT)-centric, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, a little toxic but still the sexy amount, alternatively donghyuck on a motorcycle au, donghyuck studies medical electronics tech, mark studies anthropology, warsaw poland au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midzyzen/pseuds/midzyzen
Summary: “I love you,” Donghyuck says, hooded eyes and voice tired, “you know that, right?”And it’s hard to put a name on those things, but Mark knows now. Donghyuck is his first choice. “I love you, too,” he yawns and who cares in what way. “So much.”//or: it's summer 2019, donghyuck gets himself a motorcycle and mark's life spirals out of his control
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: pocztówka z wwa, lato '19 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1847740
Comments: 26
Kudos: 82





	kahneman et al.

**Author's Note:**

> happy bday mark hehe ily king <333 
> 
> cw for mocking christianity and christians (its like there for a paragraph or two and its like. contextually polish but yeah its there if youre not comfortable)
> 
> thank u to [kinnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofugumball/pseuds/tofugumball) for beta-ing and co-inspiring like a solid half of this fic with [paddie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frougge/pseuds/frougge) (re: Excessive Drinking), kinnie gets special credits for the church thing though coz i thought it was really funny they did it. also thank u for ridin donghyuck for sparking up the entire conversation abt donghyuck on a motorcycle ive been having with myself for the last three months 
> 
> the fic has two playlists, one is [the actual one](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3XlU3A76WHgpqL54Yacyw1?si=XQNcguDcQyiw-jviJQzJVw), the other is [this epic album](https://open.spotify.com/album/0NswGrMDNxBGq6DwAnIdU1?si=HtRocWjiTKa-ESGiqSOFJw) which inspired this fic almost as much as my friends did and its also just great and also folklore ily taylor swift 
> 
> the polish easter eggs are unimportant and omissible im just quirky like that. the fic was partially inspired by the undoing project by michael lewis, which is also where i got the title and the quote that starts and ends the fic from. and its a little inside joke as well hehet.

_‘Sitting with his new love in the world’s capital of romance, Danny sat down and wrote what amounted to a love letter: to Amos. “Dear Amos,” it began. “When I came to Paris I found an envelope from you. I pulled out your manuscript but there was no letter with it. And I told myself that Amos is very angry with me, and not without reason…’_

_*_

Mark thinks his teenage angst days are over, for most part.

He’s turning twenty soon, so it’s all in due time. Long gone are existential crises he had all throughout high school, he has somewhat of an idea about what he wants to do in the future, life’s okay. And, well, okay may not seem like too much, but it’s progress enough from teenage Mark who would find any such statements blasphemous. 

So if anyone asked how Mark is doing, the answer would be just fine. He gets around, as one does. _How are you and Donghyuck_ , though, that’s a whole different story. It starts around the time Donghyuck gets a motorcycle over the summer break after Mark’s first year of university. 

It’s nothing fancy, Donghyuck says when he comes over a couple of days after Pride to show it off, because he can’t afford a better one. It’s a bit rusty looking, Mark has to admit, but it works perfectly fine for a second hand. He likes the look of it, too. Donghyuck often said he wanted one of those neon yellow Yamaha eyesores, but they’re way above his budget. The old Honda, Mark has no idea about the model specifics because he always forgets the moment Donghyuck mentions it, is black. You get the full view of the engine, which adds to the vintage vibe. 

“Vintage is one way to put it,” Donghyuck snorts, the way he always does when he finds something Mark said ridiculous, which in return makes Mark feel like _he_ is ridiculous. “It’s a scrap, beloved. Vintage sounds much better, though. You’re right, let’s gentrify things a bit.”

Mark is impressed, less so because he’s easily impressed by everything Donghyuck brings to the table, but because he’s the first and only person in their group of friends to get a bike license. All of them, sans Mark, have your usual permit, but this is somewhat of a novelty. 

“You’re gonna have to switch from denim to leather,” Mark says, poking the buttons of one of the jackets he grew to associate with Donghyuck almost naturally. He customises them, Donghyuck, puts one of his trademark designs on their backs. It makes getting gifts for him exceptionally easy, because he’s always out of white fabric paint that Mark supplies for him every June and December. His helmet is customised, too, but it’s Renjun’s handiwork. It’s fitting, a cartoon sun drawn on the back of it with the cheap paint markers Renjun uses because he doesn’t have money to waste on Poscas. “Isn’t that more of a biker thing?”

“I’m not switching shit,” Donghyuck says defensively. It’s probably because accepting fashion advice from Mark, who Donghyuck insists still dresses like a straight man at his big age, would cast aspersions on his name. “Leather jackets mad sexy, though, you’re onto something here. Surprisingly.”

“Give me more credit,” Mark huffs.

“I will not,” Donghyuck says, “but thanks for the advice.”

Mark sees it from the balcony, the motorcycle. Donghyuck parks it right across the street of Mark’s building, as though on display. He keeps looking at it when he goes out for a smoke — Donghyuck hates cigarettes so Mark doesn’t do it inside the flat when he’s over. Even when he’s not over, because the smell tends to linger. 

Donghyuck is sitting on the floor when Mark comes back, because he doesn’t sit on chairs unless forced to. If it were anyone else, Mark would assume they’re trying to be quirky, but Donghyuck just does things like that naturally. His legs are crossed and he’s drinking Mark’s supply of coke away without a care. 

“You should come over, pick me up once the school year kicks off,” Mark says. “It would be a popularity boost.”

“Yeah, of course,” Donghyuck humours him. “Or I could pull up at your work, wouldn’t that be a delight?”

Mark interns at an office where he’s the only person under forty (if not fifty), so he’s not quite sure they’d be impressed with a guy with purple hair sweeping him up on a motorcycle. He doesn’t do much there, mostly archive work, because he isn’t qualified to do more. He only got the gig because his mother knows a guy there. The mother in question would, thus, be informed of Mark (Donghyuck’s?) little stunt sooner or later and Mark can only imagine her reaction. 

She never liked Donghyuck. Mark’s quite the opposite. 

“I’d have a solid rep, yeah,” Mark says, taking in the smile curving on Donghyuck’s face. Small victories.

“You don’t have a helmet,” Donghyuck says, because he can’t let Mark have too much. “I’ll consider giving you a ride when you get one.”

It’s one of the subtle ways Donghyuck devised to let him know it’s time to shut up. Sensing that Donghyuck is getting tired of his overexcitement, Mark doesn’t mention it for the rest of the day. He does think about it a lot, though. 

It’s Donghyuck who ends up bringing it up in the end, telling Mark how easy it will be to get home now. Mark, religiously reliant on public transport, knows just how long it takes to get to Donghyuck’s. He lives all the way in Ursus, so Mark has to take around three buses from his comfortable city centre flat to get there. He wouldn’t mind it as much if not for the traffic all the way up from the central to the west railway station and a little beyond it, just until the fast city rail station. It doesn’t help that Donghyuck’s house is close to the highway (the only one on that side of the city), so he can understand the convenience of a motorcycle.

“You hate spending time with me so much you’re already thinking about going home?” Mark says, as a joke.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck admits, also as a joke. It hurts just a little, but Mark tells himself they’re friends and friends banter. Or maybe that’s the part that hurts.

*

Him and Donghyuck are in a slump.

Mark always loves Donghyuck. As a friend, as family and as more, point blank. Sometimes he loves him so much it’s the only thing he can think about. And sometimes he loves him less — because that’s how relationships work, Mark guesses. Ups and downs, highs and lows. It’s okay, he tells himself, because he bets Donghyuck has days when Mark annoys him even more than usual, too. And it’s not like Mark would ever stop loving Donghyuck in the process, the feeling is always there. 

They’re not exactly good _now_ , though. It’s usually Donghyuck saying something as a joke and Mark reading too much into it. He has a habit of overanalysing everything he’s said and done, stemming from the years of built up insecurities. It’s not Donghyuck’s fault, nor is it something Mark can address. The last thing he’d want to do is demand Donghyuck change the way he acts for reasons as quaint and unimportant as Mark’s anxiety. 

When Mark thinks Donghyuck is annoyed with him, his first response is to shut down. No texts, no calls, radio silence. Then, he gets annoyed with Donghyuck himself, angry sometimes. A quiet retaliation of sorts. It’s when Mark most adamantly denies how dependent he is on his own best friend, wants to have nothing to do with him. Having some of their other friends over and not telling Donghyuck is Mark’s passive aggressive way of manifesting that. 

In one of Mark’s classes on language, he learned of a thing called gossip theory. As absurd as it sounds, it suggests that the reason humans bothered to evolve a uniquely developed ability of communication is because they needed a means to talk shit behind each other’s backs. Mark thinks anthropologists are wasting tax money conducting studies when Jaemin, with his tendency to stick his nose into everyone else’s business, is a perfect candidate to be prodded with electrodes. 

“I think Hyuck is seeing somebody,” Mark is good at keeping it in when his world is falling apart, so he doesn’t react to Jaemin’s words with more than a tilt of the head.

“You do?” He swallows heavily, catching Ryujin looking at him worriedly from across the table. Mark looks away. “How so?”

“He deleted Tinder off his phone,” Jaemin says and Mark knows it’s hardly evidence of anything, but he can already imagine the nights he will spend overthinking it. “When I asked, he said he’s not interested in finding anyone. _Donghyuck_ said that.”

Mark has to admit this doesn’t quite add up with the usual Donghyuck agenda. He likes dating around and gets exceptionally whiney if he’s not seeing anyone for longer than he finds acceptable. To Mark’s best knowledge, Donghyuck hasn’t dated in quite some time — a few months, nearing a year, now. In all fairness, though, Donghyuck could have just not told him because he rarely tells Mark of things that are important. 

Hence Mark’s inclination to give Jaemin’s conspiracy theory a chance.

“That does sound off,” he admits, voice hoarse.

“Or maybe he just doesn’t want to see anyone at the moment,” Ryujin offers, giving both of them a tired look. “You’re reading into it too much.”

“It explains the motorcycle,” Jaemin points out. “He’s had a license for some time but only got the thing now. Maybe it’s because he’s got someone.”

“Or he finally saved up,” Ryujin reasons and Mark’s gratitude soars through the roof. He needs to see things rationally and she’s the only one here with a clear head; Jaemin often gets overexcited when drama is involved and Mark’s sanity flew out of the window at the mention of Donghyuck dating anyone who isn’t him. You’d think he’d be used to it by now, but the bile rising up his throat is as familiar as ever.

“Okay, why do I have to listen to him cover Taylor Swift for the third week in a row, then?” Jaemin is referring to a gig Donghyuck has at this bar downtown, just two bus stops away from Mark’s flat. He performs every Tuesday and Thursday night, sometimes he gets the better paid weekend slot, too. It’s just Donghyuck and his dad’s old Gibson, and it’s enough to make it work. The setlist of his covers is usually something along the lines of blues or soft alt, just to set the atmosphere. Other nights he plays something of his own, but it’s rare. Taylor Swift, however, entirely unheard of before. “He successfully ruined _Delicate_ for me, like the least he could do is learn another song—”

Ryujin continues to argue with Jaemin, possibly just to prove a point. She’s stubborn, Jaemin her equal, and it results in them fighting for no other reason than the hell of it. Mark suspects they enjoy it more than they let on, but he’s the last person to preach about healthy dynamics. Instead, he blocks the two of them out, far too preoccupied with going through all of Donghyuck’s social media to find evidence of anything. It is to no avail and Mark knows it already, Donghyuck is too private of a person. 

He must have a hell of a time watching people try and decode him, Mark remarks with some sort of bitter annoyance. Knowing Donghyuck, he’s greatly enjoying himself being in their friends’ centre of attention, Mark’s too. Then again, Mark can’t really imagine him elsewhere, or anyone else in his place. 

“Anyways, if he’s got someone, wouldn’t Mark be the first to know?” Ryujin says, and that’s where she’s wrong. That’s where a lot of people are wrong. 

He thinks, with his fists clenched, that if Donghyuck could have things his way, he wouldn’t tell Mark anything at all. 

*

Mark can feel the bass vibrating with his feet in the lift already. Lia’s friend lives in one of those pre-war buildings with the old lifts with double doors you open and close yourself. Mark’s always been afraid of being stuck in one ever since his mother forced him to take French every week all throughout primary and middle school and his tutor had those at her place, too. Neither Ryujin nor Donghyuck seem particularly fazed by the setup, holding a litre bottle of vodka each. There was a _three-for-one_ sale in the store on the way here, to their almost empty wallets’ delight.

“We need to stop drinking,” Donghyuck said back in the alcohol aisle, but grabbed a small bottle of orange flavoured vodka to drink on the go. “Had to go beg my mom for money today like I’m not nineteen and employed.”

“When’s your next payday?” Ryujin asked, referring to the bar job and the other odd gigs Donghyuck picked up over the summer. 

“Next week,” Donghyuck sighed. “At least I’ll be hooked for the next month. Or two weeks given our getting smashed track record.”

“We gotta start a _go-fund-me_ ,” Mark, whose monthly salary doesn’t cover their alcohol expenses either, suggested. “Help poverty-stricken students get pissed five times a week.”

“God, it’s all because of Mark’s fucking flat,” Donghyuck says when they’re already in the lift. The flat is really his dad’s, but Mark lives there for the summer while he’s abroad for work. “If we all lived with our parents like before we’d just go crazy every once in a while but now we’re teenage alcoholics. Or Mark is one for the next month, at least.”

“Fuck you,” Mark breathes under his nose, far from happy about being reminded of his twentieth birthday approaching soon. Both Donghyuck and Ryujin went to school a year early and they love bringing up Mark’s age just to spite him. “You can stop coming over, I’m not forcing you to invade my flat.”

Donghyuck, a little drunk already, drapes himself over Mark’s shoulder. “You want me to, though.”

“You wish,” Mark scoffs, a grin stretching on his face as he half-assedly pushes Donghyuck away. When the younger as much as pouts, Mark gives in immediately. “Only a little.” Donghyuck looks nothing short of triumphant. 

The lift comes to a still and Ryujin pushes both doors open. She texts Lia, who’s inside already, to open the door. The music is so loud it’s no use trying the bell. The flat is nice, in the rich 1930s elite kind of way. It’s often the case with law school parties, Lia tells them, because the parents are well-off lawyers themselves. They find Jaemin and Renjun in the kitchen, because that’s where the alcohol is. Jeno’s not around because he got a ticket last weekend for pissing in some park on the way back home from the club and went bankrupt. 

“Man, they’re _rich_ rich,” Donghyuck says, watching Jaemin pour shots of every bottle on the table one by one. He says it’s to make the most of the _all-inclusive_. “There’s barely any vodka.”

“We drink vodka all the time,” Renjun rolls his eyes. Mark wishes he was wrong, but it’s, at this point, their cheapest option. 

“We could afford something better every once a while if we stopped drinkin’ every time we see each other,” Jaemin jokes, before downing a shot glass of liquor. “Man, this one’s good.”

“Lemme try,” Lia snatches the bottle. “Babe, what are you drinking?”

“The blue shit,” Ryujin points to a bottle of Bombay Sapphire. Mark doesn’t ever recall seeing it in person. Before he can fix something up for himself, Donghyuck hands him a cup of vodka mixed with coke. They always drink the same thing and Donghyuck knows exactly how to ratio the vodka and the coke the way Mark likes it. 

It’s kind of a blur from then on. Next thing Mark knows and he’s sat on the armrest of a leather couch in one of the living rooms. Renjun and Jaemin are dancing on the other side of the room, Ryujin and Lia are gone God knows where. Mark should probably make sure they’re okay, but Donghyuck’s in front of him and he’s smiling like he only does when he’s drunk, so Mark can’t think of anything else at the moment.

“ _Mark_ ,” Donghyuck whines, pulling him up from his seat just to drape himself over Mark’s shoulder. “The music sucks.”

Mark doesn’t take it too seriously; Donghyuck says that about anywhere they go. He’s a bit of a snob in that aspect, always has been, with the whole refusing to listen to anything released in the 21st century agenda he’s got going on. It’s as annoying as it is cool in Mark’s eyes, one of those things that feed into his inferiority complex. It doesn’t help that Mark has what is possibly the worst music taste of all time — Donghyuck calls it _bad music for gay people._ He finds it funny most of the time, but sometimes it gets to him. 

“What do you want me to do about it?” Mark laughs, because his fondness for Donghyuck grows exponentially whenever he’s all drunk and clingy and whiny. 

“Dunno,” Donghyuck giggles, pulling Mark into a tight hug. “I’m happy.”

“What about?” Mark asks, resting his hands on Donghyuck’s waist. He doesn’t get to do it often, so he takes any chance he’s given.

“You’re not mad at me anymore,” Donghyuck frowns. “I’m sorry, whatever I did. Don’t be mad at me anymore, please.”

“I can’t be mad at you,” Mark says and it’s true. He’s annoyed, _frustrated_ , sometimes, but mostly with himself. Much as he likes to project it on Donghyuck, Mark knows who the problem really is. 

“You were mad at me,” Donghyuck insists, frown growing deeper. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Mark squeezes his sides. “I’m not mad, really.” 

“Good,” Donghyuck seems appeased for the moment. He looks endearing, so endearing Mark struggles to keep his feelings in. “Don’t be. I’m sorry.”

Before Mark can tell him over and over that he’s got nothing to apologise for, Lia appears out of nowhere to let them know they’re playing beer pong in one of the office rooms. Donghyuck perks up immediately, unlatching himself off Mark and calling over Jaemin and Renjun to join them. Mark sucks at beer pong but he follows behind Donghyuck. It pays off when Donghyuck asks him if he wants to be his team; he does it like it’s an obvious choice, like he didn’t think twice about wanting anyone else but Mark. 

“Yeah, sure,” Mark says a little too enthusiastically, eyes a little too awestruck. He’s lucky Donghyuck is too drunk to notice.

*

When Ryujin comes over with cigarettes and a six pack of Lech for them to share, Mark already knows something is wrong. She even got the menthol smokes from the brand Mark likes that cost a złoty more than the normal ones, so it’s gravely serious. Ryujin doesn’t tell him immediately, because she’s the stalling kind. For a while they just sit on Mark’s balcony, drags followed by swigs. 

“You ever shotgunned beer?” Ryujin asks.

“Yeah, Donghyuck and I did a couple of times,” Mark says. “You?”

“Lia and I tried once,” Ryujin smiles, more to herself than to Mark. “She was okay, I was a mess. Kept spilling shit everywhere and she made fun of me for a month after. Bitch wouldn’t even help me.”

Mark kind of envies them sometimes, not as much that they’re together but more how their relationship started. Ryujin met Lia at a party in their second year of high school and they started dating within two weeks from then. They never had that period of trying to figure out whether they were friends or more; Mark wasn’t so lucky. Before Mark realised he liked him and, more importantly, before Donghyuck even came out, they were already close, close enough for Mark to prioritise their friendship over his feelings. 

It would have been easier if he wasn’t so scared of losing Donghyuck. Mark reckons there’s not a lot of things he’s more terrified of. Still, he’s more happy for Ryujin than envious. 

“It ever bother you?” He asks instead. “That she makes fun of you, I mean?”

“We all make fun of each other, so I don’t really care,” Ryujin shrugs. “And she has a pretty smile. And a pretty laugh. I’m not too bothered by pretty girls.”

“Figures,” Mark says. Donghyuck has a pretty smile, too, all eyes-crinkling and cheek-pulling, and suddenly all Mark wants is to see it in person. He always ends up missing Donghyuck when he’s not around, it’s a disposition of his Mark is not entirely happy about. “Are you guys gonna be living together next year?”

“We’re looking for places, yeah,” Ryujin says. “I feel kinda bad, though, my parents are more…supportive I guess and…”

“Hers not so much?” Mark finishes. 

“Yeah,” Ryujin tussles her hair. It’s freshly bleached, but longer than it used to be last year. She’s growing it out. “It’s just kinda awkward. I wanted us to be, you know, equals, but I’m privileged and I feel bad towards her.”

“No relationship is equal,” Mark says. “I mean, I sound toxic and shit, but as long as you’re not using that against her. And shit.”

“And shit,” Ryujin repeats and lights another cigarette after throwing the stub into the empty flower pot. Mark keeps it there for stubs specifically, the largest container he could find around for the purpose. It’s already half-full since summer started. 

It’s only after they each finish their second beer when Ryujin comes clean. “Much as it hurts me to say and I’ll never admit I ever said it, I think Jaemin was right.”

“About?” Mark frowns.

“I think Donghyuck is seeing somebody,” Ryujin says and she looks guilty like she’s the one seeing somebody behind Mark’s back. Then she’s back to stalling, “I mean, I don’t know for sure, but—”

“Who?” Mark cuts her off. 

“Lucas,” Ryujin sighs. She takes another cigarette, tries to light it, but to her frustration her lighter won’t work. Mark gives her his own. “Thanks. I, uh, I was out getting shit for Lia’s birthday yesterday and I saw them out.”

Mark’s heart feels heavy, like it’s made of lead. His head feels heavy and his limbs feel heavy. His whole body is heavy and his voice is heavy when he says, “what were they doing?”

“They were at that udon place near the Społem we’d get the Igristoye from in high school,” Ryujin tells him. Then she winces, “fuck, Mark, it looked like a date. The udon place is expensive as hell, and—”

“God, isn’t Renjun, like, insane over Lucas?” Mark interrupts her. “Like, do you think Renjun even knows? Donghyuck’s kinda fucked up for this one.”

“Look, you’re kinda unfair here,” Ryujin replies. “Donghyuck can date whoever he wants.”

“I know,” Mark retracts quickly, “I’m just saying Renjun is our friend and—”

“—he’s got dibs on Lucas,” Ryujin guesses, voice snide, “or more like you’ve got dibs on Donghyuck—”

“—I don’t have dibs on Donghyuck—”

“—and you’re projecting onto Renjun,” Ryujin finishes. “You can’t be mad at Donghyuck, you know that.”

“I’m not mad that he’s seeing someone,” Mark tries to explain, “upset, yes, but more with myself than with him. What I’m mad about is that he never tells me, _us_ , shit.”

“He has the right to,” Ryujin says, but Mark knows it bothers her too. It bothers all of them, at the end of the day. “You know he does.”

Mark opens his last beer. “What do you think he sees in Lucas? He’s tall, isn’t he?”

“He’s kind of perfect, I don’t know what to tell you,” Ryujin laughs. “I can’t see it, though. Them together, I mean.”

“How about me and him?” Mark asks, because he doesn’t have a filter.

“Yeah, you two were always different with each other,” Ryujin offers him a smile. Mark doesn’t know whether he has any reason to believe her, but he does anyways. “And you have dibs on him, after all, don’t you?”

Mark rolls his eyes. Having dibs on Donghyuck is as profane as it gets. He lights up another cigarette and says, “man, I wish.”

*

_‘Dear Donghyuck,’_ he starts. _‘Nie widziałem Cię już od miesiąca. I nic.’_ He crosses out the last line. 

_‘Dear Donghyuck,’_ he tries again. _‘The anti-abortion van is outside my window again. I can’t even smoke in peace. I miss you. More than I let on.’_ He tosses his notepad aside, clearly not in the right headspace to write anything coherent. It’s not like he’s ever planning to give those to Donghyuck anyways, but he likes writing him letters sometimes, just to get things out of the system.

He’s too tired now, though. Renjun and Lia came over yesterday night and Mark had to go to work at eight in the morning, with no time to nurse the inevitable hangover. Just last year he was much better at the whole alcohol thing, he doesn’t remember feeling remotely hungover. With how his liver is giving up on him at the age of twenty, Mark doesn’t think he’ll get to see the day he turns thirty. 

Work is harder now that the weather is scorching. It’s been over thirty five degrees every day for the last week and the fan in the office Mark shares with three other people works maybe half the time. They get a free bottle of water every day, though, so he can’t really complain. He ended up taking a twenty minute walk back home just to miss out on the experience of squishing himself into a stuffy, crowded bus with no a.c. So yeah, he’s tired. 

For lunch, he eats toast with ice cream because he doesn’t feel like anything else. He takes a nap for the rest of the afternoon, because there’s not much more to do. He wakes up at eight in the evening with a sour taste in his mouth and swollen eyes. It’s still light outside, the heat seems to have eased a little, so he takes a shower and goes out for a walk. 

Walking down Hoża, he counts how many smokes he’ll finish by the time he reaches Chałubińskiego and thinks about the first time he met Donghyuck. It was back in their last year of middle school, at a house party at one of Mark’s classmates he didn’t really like. He came with Jaemin and Renjun, Jeno was grounded because of a failed Physics test if he remembers correctly. 

Donghyuck and him went to different middle schools, which is why they’ve never met before. He was sitting on the ground in front of Soyeon’s TV with her boyfriend and a few other guys because Legia was playing Wisła. They were betting on the score when Mark sat down on the couch with his beer. Donghyuck’s hair wasn’t yet dyed, his ears not yet pierced, but he was still the centre of attention.

“You’re full of shit,” Soyeon’s boyfriend, Mark doesn’t remember his name, told Donghyuck.

“No, I just know what I’m talking about,” Donghyuck replied, putting his money in the pile on the middle of the carpet. “They’re gonna win, four to null. Or more.”

“Well, fuck, that’s your lost money,” the guy laughed, before turning to Mark. “You betting?” 

“I’m almost broke,” Mark excused himself weakly.

“Just bet Donghyuck’s wrong,” another guy butted in, “easy money if you’re broke.”

“Suck a dick,” Donghyuck said. He used to say that a lot back then. “I haven’t been wrong in the last ten rounds.”

“No use arguing with him,” Soyeon’s boyfriend told Mark, like he was letting him in on some big inside joke. _Try me_ , Mark thought. “He’s full of shit.”

“So you’ve said,” Mark replied. “He play or what?”

“Yeah, he’s in Legia,” Mark could tell the guy wasn’t too happy about it. It’s not easy to get into, so Donghyuck must be good. “Motherfucker.”

At that moment Mark caught Donghyuck looking at them, wryly amused if a little awkward. Maybe hurt. Mark took the last twenty from his jacket pocket and added it to the pile. “Well, I’m betting he’s right,” he said. Donghyuck gave him a small smile and Mark couldn’t care less if he was going to lose the money. That night, Legia won five to null. 

He’s halfway through his fourth cigarette when he reaches the end of the street. He smokes three more on his way back and he thinks of Donghyuck some more. He misses him these days, but it would be awkward to text him after ghosting him for over a week now. 

Donghyuck’s been haunting his mind so much for the past week that when Mark sees him at his door when he comes home, he thinks he’s hallucinating. He stands awkwardly in the hallway, midway through digging the keys to his flat from his pocket when Donghyuck notices him.

“Where have you been?” Donghyuck asks.

“Out,” Mark replies, “for a walk.”

“Oh,” Donghyuck brushes back his hair. “You haven’t been coming to see me play. You and Jeno, but Jeno is excused, ‘cause he took methylphenidate and champagne for the legal amphetamine effect and can’t get out of bed. And God knows why when his dealer can literally hook him up on the real thing.”

“I’m tired,” Mark says. “Work’s been getting to me.”

“You didn’t seem tired yesterday on Snapchat,” Donghyuck points out. “Is it something I did?”

“No, really,” Mark sighs. “I’ll come next time, yeah? You wanna come in, by the way?” 

“Can I?” Donghyuck raises his eyebrow.

“Always,” Mark says. 

“Sure,” Donghyuck scoffs. “Let’s come in, then.”

They sit in silence, Donghyuck on Mark’s floor, Mark on his unmade bed. When Mark offers him something to drink, Donghyuck declines. 

“D’you think Jeno got actual champagne?” Mark asks, just to pretend they have something nice to talk about.

“Huh?”

“For the amphetamine thing. Do you think he got champagne?”

“Dunno,” Donghyuck shrugs. 

“Champagne is expensive,” Mark says. “Like, the real one. It’s, like, two hundred over. And that’s the cheap one.”

“He probably got the Russian one you and Ryujin are obsessed with that tastes like piss, what’s it called again?”

“Sovetskoye Igristoye. It goes for, like, a five in Społem.”

“Right, that. That seems like more of Jeno’s price range.” 

The conversation dies down. Mark tries again. 

“How was performing today?”

“Fine,” Donghyuck says. “Good.”

And again.

“What have you been up to these days?”

“Things,” Donghyuck tells him. “Nothing much, really.”

After a while, Donghyuck tells him he has to go or he won’t make it for the last train back home. Mark goes to sleep wondering why Donghyuck didn’t take the bike, or why he stopped at Mark’s place anyways, but it’s not like he could ask.

*

The sky is clear when Mark takes the bus from work to the med school dorms. They’re open during the summer for people from outside of Warsaw, one of them being Lucas. Mark first met him in the first term of university, courtesy of Ryujin who introduced the two of them. Ryujin’s med school friends are all nice, Mark particularly remembers liking Yeji and Chaeryeong, but with Lucas he’s definitely been closest. 

When Ryujin called Lucas perfect, she wasn’t really far off. He’s smart, not bothering to discriminate between the book and street kind, funny and chill. He’s loud, but not over the top, knows where to draw the line at things. The cool kind of guy, so much it’s almost intimidating. Almost, because Lucas is too kind for that, too much of a sweetheart. The height factor doesn’t help.

So, it didn’t come as much of a surprise when Renjun had a meltdown about him at New Year’s when he got a little too drunk off of the mojitos they made. It was kind of funny, really, Mark has the video of Renjun crying over Lucas somewhere in the depths of his gallery, telling them all about how he wanted to live with Lucas in a pretty house with a garden and picket fence in Mokotów. 

“I want to have twenty-five kids with him,” Renjun told them before blowing his nose in the tissue paper Lia gave him. “So that we can start a church choir.” Mark to this day doesn’t know what that was all about, because Renjun isn’t even baptised. 

Still, Mark can’t think of anything about Lucas he doesn’t like. Other than him apparently dating Donghyuck, which isn’t in any way a viable reason to dislike anyone in the first place. That being said, Mark is also a terrible person and considered joining witch twitter for the sole purpose of hexing Lucas if that’s what it takes. 

He gets Lucas’s address from Renjun, because Ryujin certainly wouldn’t approve of Mark investigating into their friends’ business. Renjun is an easy target, too, because the sole mention of Lucas makes him lose any remains of common sense left (especially under influence). It’s all the way over in Wola, so it takes a while to get there from downtown. He kills time checking how many of Donghyuck’s posts on Instagram Lucas liked in the last few months. 

Originally, Mark planned to be more subtle about the whole thing, or at least not act like an asshole. This, ultimately, goes to shit the moment Lucas opens the door, letting out a surprised but nonetheless cheery, “hi, Mark!” 

“Are you dating Donghyuck?” Mark replies. 

Lucas blinks back at him. “You’re not serious, right?”

“I am,” Mark nods. Lucas just looks confused. “So, are you?”

“No, where did you even get the idea?” Lucas snorts. Then says, “maybe you should come in, I don’t think this is a doorway kinda conversation.” 

It’s not, so Mark takes him up on the offer. He sits on the edge of Lucas’s mattress. His room is clean — not something you’d expect of a first year med student, or any student really. Maybe Mark should vacuum more often at his place, or attempt to make his bed some days at least.

“Ryujin saw you two out a while back,” he reveals, wondering just how stupid he must sound right now. “It wouldn’t be anything bad or anything, I just wanted to know,” he adds, just so that he doesn’t come off as a complete piece of shit. Which would be accurate, but Lucas doesn’t need to know that.

“God, Mark,” Lucas pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. Mark wonders if Donghyuck finds it attractive. “We’re friends, we hang out. I’m not dating Hyuck. And if I was, I don’t see why I should be the one telling you instead of Hyuck himself.”

They’re on the nickname basis, Mark notes to himself. “He never tells me anything, I just needed to know.”

“He didn’t tell you we were seeing each other because we’re not seeing each other,” Lucas sighs, looking a little sorry for Mark at this point. “Hyuck’s cool and all—”

“So, you have a thing for him,” Mark blurts out. “Totally cool, by the way. I mean, who doesn’t? Well, I mean out of people attracted to men. And probably like a fraction of them, too, like some of them must be taken or too old probably—”

“ _—I like Renjun_ ,” Lucas stops him. “That’s who I have a thing for. Hyuck and him are close, so we were talking about that.” 

“Oh,” Mark says. “Oh, wow. So, you guys just meet up for boy talk?”

“You could say that.” 

“Cool, cool,” Mark says, “he ever mention anyone or…”

“No, Mark.”

“Cool, great,” he gets up, clapping his hands together. “Good luck with you and Renjun, by the way. You two are perfect, really.”

“Thanks, Mark,” it’s clear Lucas wants him gone already and Mark can’t really blame him. “I’d appreciate if this stayed between us, though, yeah?”

“Obviously,” Mark salutes, successfully making things even worse. “You got it.”

Mark has several realisations on the way back home. One, he can’t look Lucas in the eye again, meaning he has to pass on being Renjun’s best man. Two, he’d understand why Donghyuck would date Lucas, or literally anyone else, over him. Three, he really needs to drop by at the convenience store. He’s out of vodka and if he has to stay sober for another minute, he might just have to fuck around and jump off the nearest bridge.

*

Mark hasn’t seen Donghyuck look this heartbroken since, well, just a few months ago when Legia lost its three years and running title of Ekstraklasa reigning champion to Piast Gliwice. They found out in the library, both of them preparing for the upcoming final exams when Jeno texted them the news. That was the first and last time Mark has ever seen Donghyuck cry and they agreed to never bring it up. Donghyuck was in a state of shock for the entire week afterwards while Mark was questioning why he’s unironically in love with a man who cries over football.

But it’s not like he’s stopped. 

Donghyuck’s current turmoil, however, involves the state of Mark’s kitchen. He’s gone through Mark’s cupboards and is now rummaging through the very little food he has in his fridge freezer with disappointment painted all over his face. 

“Mark, what _do_ you eat?” Donghyuck asks, pulling out one of the five ice cream tubs from Mark’s freezer, only to find a container of frozen pierogi. Mark forgot they were there.

“Well, ice cream,” Mark says. “It’s good on toast. Really easy to make.”

“No, wait, you actually eat that? You just slap ice cream on toast and that’s your idea of a meal?” Mark nods in response. Donghyuck crosses himself. “Santa Madonna.” 

“I eat other things, too,” Mark whines. “I have a whole cupboard of Vifon.”

“So you eat instant soup or ice cream on toast,” Donghyuck sums up, “Mark, you’ll die at twenty five.”

“I mean, my Grandma cooks for me sometimes,” Mark says. “I come over, like, every other week or two and she makes me food for the next couple of days.”

Donghyuck looks far from satisfied, grumbling something about Mark needing to learn how to cook at his big age. They’re throwing dinner at Mark’s place for the lot of them, Donghyuck offering to cook. The whole thing is for Jaemin, really, because he’s been missing Jeno; he’s still not back from the pilgrimage to Częstochowa his mother forced him to go on for the second time this year. They barely text and Jeno can’t really call without fifty other middle-aged catholic ladies eavesdropping, so Jaemin’s not been taking this too well.

“I’ll just text Lia and Ryujin to grab whatever you need on the way here,” Mark suggests, “we can go downstairs to get something to drink.” By downstairs, Mark means the liquor store at the ground floor of his block that he lives directly above. It’s a little expensive, but Mark’s got a resident discount.

It works out in the end. Mark stands in the kitchen doorway watching Donghyuck cook while the others sit at the dinner table in his living room. They’ve been better these days, him and Donghyuck. It’s incredible what knowing someone’s single does to a relationship, really. 

“Do you need any help?” Mark asks.

“From you? No,” Donghyuck laughs. “Or you could set the table maybe?”

“Plates or bowls?”

“Bowls, I guess. It’s goulash.”

“I barely know what goulash is,” Mark says and Donghyuck probably thinks it’s a joke (it’s not), because he puts down the wooden spoon over the pot and slaps Mark’s arm, urging him to go already. Mark picks up a couple of decent-sized bowls, each from a different dinnerware set. 

Ryujin, Lia and Jaemin are in the middle of a conversation when Mark sets the table. “Fucking Jasna Góra,” Jaemin whines, “ _no zesram się_. Jeno’s mom is evil, I swear, I met that woman once in my life and she’s genuinely terrifying. She looks Christian, man, I’ve never seen anyone look more Christian.”

All the religion talk has got Mark thinking about the time in high school when they went on a trip to Poznań. It was just him and Donghyuck, and Mark was already in love with him. Their teacher gave them free time to roam around the Old Town, so they dropped by Fara, a basilica just a few minutes away from the market square. 

Donghyuck, like Mark, wasn’t raised Christian, but he liked the aesthetic. While he busied himself with documenting every inch of the frescoes on the ceiling, Mark decided he had nothing better to do than go confess, because his favourite edgy hobby at seventeen was mocking catholicism. He kneeled down in the booth, telling the priest all about how he wanted to convert, but didn’t know how. After running him through the logistics of joining a church, the man asked if Mark had any questions. Mark asked if it’s okay if he comes with his boyfriend, earning a shocked splutter and a flustered shake of the head, just as expected.

He left church with his arm around Donghyuck’s shoulder, just for show, and an amused smile. It’s a fond memory till this day. 

“When’s Jeno coming back?” Mark asks. 

“Three or four days, depends if the hag walking with them dies of a stroke or not,” Jaemin tells him. “I thank God every day I’m not baptised.”

“God, she do be wasting his time, though,” Lia says. “Like, you know that woman will drag him to Częstochowa for Mary’s Assumption.”

“Fucked if true,” Jaemin rolls his eyes at the thought. “All I want is to spend summer vacation with my boyfriend, but fucking Jesus had to have something to say about that.”

“Speaking of which, I can’t believe we’re, like, over a month into summer vacation,” Ryujin says. “God, I hate med school. Like, man, fuck higher education.”

“Real shit, I just wanna get drunk with you guys and do nothing all day.” Lia rests her head on Ryujin’s shoulder. 

“Mark, you forgot the cutlery,” Donghyuck calls out, leaning through the doorway. 

“God, I don’t even wanna think about university,” Mark sighs, seconds away from spiralling, before turning to Donghyuck. “Coming, babe.”

Mark doesn’t realise he said anything out of the ordinary until the room falls silent, Donghyuck looking at him with his eyes wide open. 

“Did you just call Donghyuck babe?” Ryujin stifles a laugh, eyebrow raised. God, Mark knows she won’t let him live this one down. Ryujin’s still kind of mad about the Lucas situation, which she found out about from the snitch in question. Donghyuck would never date a snitch, Mark remarks to himself. The Lucas Debacle is also the reason Renjun didn’t bother coming, because, according to him, Mark is _messed up in the head_. He’ll get over it. 

“I didn’t,” he denies. “You heard wrong.”

“No, I’m pretty sure you called him babe,” Lia insists, and Ryujin crosses her arms triumphantly. The smug grin she gives Mark shouldn’t rile him up as much as it does.

“I said Hyuck,” it sounds pathetically defensive, even to him.

“You kinda didn’t, though,” Lia says.

“I said—”

“You called me babe,” Donghyuck speaks up quietly, eyes cast on the floor. He purses his lips like Mark knows he does when he’s uncomfortable. 

“ _Jebłam_ ,” Ryujin whispers ostentatiously to Lia.

“I must have slipped, then,” Mark offers Donghyuck, because he’s bad at lying to him. “Can you pass me the cutlery?”

“Sure,” Donghyuck breathes out, still not looking up, not looking at Mark. “It should be ready soon, by the way, I just need to cook the rice.” Mark watches him do just that, calculating just how much he messed up. It amounts to a whole lot. 

The dinner works out better than the time they tried to throw a picnic at Pola Mokotowskie right after exam season ended, only to realise it’s impossible to evade the insect factor of it all and moving the whole ordeal to the Starbucks at Politechnika. The food is great, Mark comes to learn exactly what goulash is and just how much he likes it.

“ _Daang_ , this is _good_ ,” Mark tells Donghyuck, who’s sitting across him, in a weak attempt to get Donghyuck to look at him. He’s met with hums of approval from the rest and—

—And Donghyuck grins to himself, all lopsided and endearing, and hooks his ankle around Mark’s underneath the table. “Thanks,” he says and then adds quietly, “babe.” 

Mark smiles back.

*

The new bar is LGBT-friendly, or so says the sign at the entrance. Mark gets stupidly giddy over things like that and today is no exception. It opened maybe a few days ago and it’s the first time they’ve come here, but he already likes it. It’s actually something between a club and a bar, but more calm, adult-y, reminiscent of the mid-war café scene in Warsaw. The music is quieter and it’s less rowdy, but that’s fine. Mark just hopes it doesn’t reflect in the prices.

It’s a short walk from his flat, one he took with Donghyuck. Donghyuck came from work by bike and asked if he could leave it at Mark’s and stay the night, not in the mood to go back home by train, drunk out of his mind. Mark agreed, of course, and now they’re here.

It’s two days after Lia’s birthday; her actual one she spent with her family getting dinner at a restaurant somewhere in the Old Town, which is telling on its own. Lia, unlike Mark, is not terribly concerned with the fact that she’s turning twenty, so she doesn’t mind celebrating twice. She says it’s self-absorption, but Mark thinks it’s just her being a normal person. He’s not; he already told all of his friends to ignore his birthday this year, because he isn’t ready to be reminded of just how old he is. 

Ryujin and Lia are already there, occupying one of the booths on the upper floor. Renjun came, too, because Mark got him a bottle of Choya and a Wedel bar to compensate for the Lucas thing and they’re okay again. He and Donghyuck are about to go through the drink menu when Jaemin arrives. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he says after pulling Lia into a tight hug and wishing her a happy birthday. “I was on the phone with Jeno, he’s really sorry, but he’s in the ER.”

“Jesus, what happened?” Donghyuck asks.

“It’s nothing serious, he tripped on his way to work and sprained his wrist. Or so he thinks, he’s yet to see a doctor,” Jaemin sighs.

“Doesn’t his shift start at eight?” Lia frowns. “It’s half past seven.”

“It’s a Polish hospital, what do you expect?” Jaemin says. “At least it was on his way to work, so he gets full pay on leave.”

Donghyuck and him take turns getting drinks for each other. He looks tired, Donghyuck; there are dark circles under his eyes and he doesn’t talk a lot. Mark nudges his side and asks him if he’s okay. Donghyuck gives him a smile and says he’s had trouble sleeping these days. 

“Get me another drink and I’ll feel better,” Donghyuck whispers. “They have shot deals here, don’t they?”

“Sure, let me just finish.” Mark traces his thumb over the pulse on Donghyuck’s wrist. “Are you parched as hell, or can I go smoke?”

“God, you’re gonna stink,” Donghyuck complains. “Fine, I’ll live. Just don’t be long.”

Mark doesn’t smoke in the end, instead goes straight to the bar to order. He’s about to grab the shot glasses for him and Donghyuck and get back to their table when someone taps him on the shoulder. He turns around to meet the familiar face of one Hwang Hyunjin, a classmate back from high school. 

“Mark?” He asks, like they haven’t last seen each other a year ago. “Mark Lee?”

“Hyunjin,” Mark gives him a curt nod. They were never particularly close, him and Hyunjin or Hyunjin’s crowd. “Long time no see.”

“Man, small world, how have you been?” Hyunjin is one of those people for whom small talk comes naturally. Mark, not so much; he feels awkward, but it would be impolite to blow the guy off too early.

“Good, you?” He offers a strained smile. “You study law or something—”

“I do Business,” Hyunjin tells him. “That school in Milan, same as Seungmin and a couple others. You?”

“Anthropology,” Mark feels kind of stupid saying that. A lot of the kids from their high school went to study something of substance abroad, but he chose to stay and get a degree with McDonald’s level prospects. He wouldn’t want to live anywhere else, or do actual work in university, but it’s still embarrassing to admit. “Here.”

“Oh, that does sound like your thing,” Mark doesn’t know if Hyunjin meant to sound as patronising as he did. “I’m here for the summer. Have to be honest, I don’t miss it too much when I’m gone. But home’s home, right?”

Mark doesn’t have the chance to rope himself out of the conversation because Donghyuck does it for him, appearing by his side out of nowhere and asking what’s taking him so long. He purposely ignores Hyunjin — Mark appreciates Donghyuck’s attempt at a rescue mission. 

“Oh, Donghyuck,” Hyunjin doesn’t seem to know how to read the room apparently. “You’re here, too.”

“Yeah, we’re right over there with the others,” Donghyuck leans into Mark’s side, clinging onto his shoulder for leverage. Hyunjin looks a little taken aback at that, but it doesn't seem malicious. “Nice seeing you, Hyunjin.”

“Oh, is that Ryujin?” Hyunjin takes that as an invitation. “Mind if I join you for a while?”

Donghyuck’s grip on Mark’s shoulder tightens, but he smiles nonetheless. “Sure, lead the way.”

Ryujin looks delighted to see Hyunjin, so do Renjun and Jaemin. She introduces Lia as her friend, though, which is what they usually do around people they’re wary of. Or maybe they’re hoping to get Hyunjin to buy them a couple of drinks, Mark doesn’t know. 

“And what do you do, Donghyuck?” Hyunjin asks and Mark feels Donghyuck tense beside him.

“I do medical electronics tech,” Donghyuck tells him.

“Oh, so you’re in med school, too,” Hyunjin points to Ryujin. 

“No, it’s a vocational college course,” Donghyuck says and Mark thinks he looks just as out of place as Mark himself feels.

“Sounds all fancy,” Hyunjin says, even though they all know it’s not. Mark appreciates the intentions, but thinks Hyunjin shouldn’t try to be nice, because it’s not working out for him.

The topic quickly changes to Hyunjin’s university life in Italy and Mark tunes out. He focuses on Donghyuck instead, who looks terribly taken by the wooden floor panels. He’s slouched over the table, nursing the shot glass in a zoned out fashion. 

By the time Hyunjin starts complaining about his internship in corpo, Mark’s had enough. “Do you wanna dance?” he whispers, snapping Donghyuck out of his reverie. He looks relieved to say the least.

“ _Please_ ,” Donghyuck sighs and Mark’s already on his feet, excusing the two of them. 

Neither of them know how to dance, but the music is slow enough for them to get away with just swaying from side to side. Mark has his hand on Donghyuck’s back, while Donghyuck slings his free wrist over Mark’s shoulder and they make it work. 

“It’s nice here,” Donghyuck says. “The music’s kinda bland, though.”

“You want me to check if they have bluetooth speakers I can hack into?” Mark asks. 

“Nah, you’d play bad music for gay people and it would be even worse,” Donghyuck teases. “It’s okay.”

“I saw you listening to bad music for gay people on Spotify the other day,” Mark says, spinning Donghyuck clumsily. 

“So now you’re stalking me?” Donghyuck gasps. “Also fuck off, it’s catchy sometimes. Fuck you for showing me that Kim Petras album, it’s all your fault.”

“Sure,” Mark likes the glint in Donghyuck’s eyes when he’s too tipsy to hide it. “If you wanna go back there I can text Ryujin to blow Hyunjin off or something. I’m sorry about him by the way.”

“It’s not your fault,” Donghyuck hums. “And I like it here. I like it when it’s the two of us. I mean, I love the kids, they’re my best friends and I love when it’s all of us together, but—”

“I get it,” Mark tells him. At this point, it feels a little wrong calling Donghyuck his best friend, because so are the others. And Donghyuck is not just that. It’s hard to put it into words. “It’s good either way, yeah?”

“Something like that,” the boy muses. “Although right now, I’d much rather be here with you than with the others kissing Hyunjin’s ass for no reason. I hate that man.”

“Me too,” Mark admits sheepishly. “He’s nice and all, but I can’t stand successful people.”

“You get it,” Donghyuck grins. “Hey, wanna get out of here and get Żabka vodka for cheap?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Mark’s cheeks hurt from how hard he’s smiling. 

_heyyyy dh’s feelin sick_

_im takin him hmoe_

_*homo_

_*HOME_

_say goodbye to everyone from usssss_

_ditching my own birthday party…i hate gay people_

_have fun tho_

_ily <33332233333 _

_happy bday once again!!!_

_dh says happy bday too omg_

_yeah yeah_

_hyunjin asked if you two were tgt btw_

_lmaooo_

_what did u say_

_told him ur engaged_

_LMAOOOOO_

_he buy it???_

_of course he says congrats_

_ur welcome_

_cant find pray emoji_

_im in lov with u rn_

_as u should be_

The rest of the night passes by in snapshots. They get flavoured vodka, a big one to share. Not bothering to wait to get back home, they empty it on the way back. Donghyuck clings to Mark’s shoulder while Mark holds on to his waist and they make it back somehow. They’re drunk enough for everything to be funny; when Mark walks into a trash can, Donghyuck topples over with laughter. 

Donghyuck lets Mark hug him in the lift to which they barely make it. Mark doesn’t let him go, not that he’s physically able, until they’re inside. Even then, Mark holds onto Donghyuck as they stumble into Mark’s kitchen. Donghyuck cheers when he finds one last bottle of beer in Mark’s fridge.

“Where’s your bottle opener?” He asks, rummaging through Mark’s kitchen drawers. “Do you have a bottle opener?”

“Fuck if I know,” Mark slurs. “Wait, I know what to do.”

He leads Donghyuck to the balcony, hooking the bottle cap over the metal railing. He puts his hand over the bottle and pushes down, the beer foaming up and spilling over. They share the bottle outside and they must have been too loud, because someone in Mark’s block yells at them to shut the fuck up past midnight.

They find it even more hilarious, but move back inside. Lying on Mark’s floor, the light from street lamps washing over him, Donghyuck is more beautiful than ever. Mark wants to tell him that, wants to tell him just how much he loves him in just what ways — the urge is at least a million times stronger when Mark’s under influence. Donghyuck deserves more, though, more than a drunk confession.

“You wanna shower?” Mark asks. 

“Too tired,” Donghyuck giggles. “I’ll just brush my teeth, yeah?”

“Cool,” Mark kisses his temple. Donghyuck has his toothbrush at his place and it makes him oddly emotional. He lets Donghyuck go and stares at the ceiling. Moments like these, when words flow with ease and the silence is calming, he’s convinced Donghyuck is his soulmate. Or something like that. Soulmates are supposed to love you back; on the other hand, Mark doesn’t think he’ll ever love anyone else like he loves Donghyuck. 

He likes it, though, he likes being in love with Donghyuck. It’s the best thing he’s done in his life, regardless if it’s unrequited, regardless if they fight, regardless of the slumps. Loving Donghyuck is the only thing he loves about himself at this point. 

It’s later, Mark doesn’t know how much. He’s lost track of time. “Shit, Mark,” Donghyuck says, just as Mark gets out of the bathroom. “Taco released a new album, you like him, right?”

“Wait, wasn’t that supposed to come out in August?” Mark’s head is spinning, so he’s not sure of anything.

“Dunno, it’s just here,” Donghyuck says, sprawled all over Mark’s bed. He doesn’t move to give Mark space, so Mark just lies down on him eliciting a groan. “Heavy.”

“Play the album,” Mark mumbles.

“No,” Donghyuck says and shuffles to the side. “Tired.” Once they’re both comfortable, he pats Mark’s head and Mark melts into his palm. 

“Morning?”

“Fine.”

“I love you,” Donghyuck says, hooded eyes and voice tired, “you know that, right?”

He doesn’t, but Mark’s too tired not to believe Donghyuck. He doesn’t say it first often. Mark doesn’t either these days, but it’s because it feels awkward always being the first. So he clings onto Donghyuck’s words, lets himself believe that he sees Mark as anything more than a nuisance. That Mark is his best friend, just as he is Mark’s. 

And it’s hard to put a name on those things, but Mark knows now. Donghyuck is his first choice. “I love you, too,” he yawns and who cares in what way. “So much.” 

*

Mark’s plans of spending the eve of his twentieth birthday alone, wallowing in self-pity in breaks between crisis naps, are interrupted at the ungodly hour of ten a.m. He opts to ignore the doorbell the first time it wakes him up, but whoever’s on the other side doesn’t seem too keen on giving up. Cursing under his breath, Mark grabs a t-shirt and stumbles to his front door. He opens to see Donghyuck holding something behind his back. 

“I, uh, got you something,” he says.

“Hello to you, too,” Mark runs his hand through his hair to smoothen it out a little. He doesn’t understand why Donghyuck is even up this early when, last time Mark checked, he had trouble getting out of bed before noon. Wondering if Donghyuck mixed up the date, he asks, “what’s the occasion?”

“None,” Donghyuck hands him a large plastic bag. At first, Mark is a little bit skeptical of the contents’ nature but Donghyuck is no longer sixteen and his epic prank days are past him, so he reckons it will be fine. Especially that he looks embarrassed, maybe shy about it, shifting balance from one foot to the other. Donghyuck adds, “if it’s corny, let’s never mention that again.” 

“As if,” Mark snorts, before taking a look inside. To his surprise, it’s a motorcycle helmet, same as Donghyuck’s, but instead of the sun there’s a moon painted on the back. He can’t help the grin stretching out on his face. “So, I’m legally allowed on the bike?”

“Take that as you will,” Donghyuck says with a shrug. “If the whole matching thing isn’t up your alley, I can get Renjun to cover it up or—”

“No, no,” Mark holds onto the helmet protectively. “I love it.”

“You better,” Donghyuck visibly relaxes. “So, yeah, anytime you’re up for a ride, or something, give me a call. Yeah.”

He’s already turning to leave, but Mark grabs his arm to stop him. “Hey, do you have anything to do?”

“Not particularly,” Donghyuck answers.

“Do you wanna stay then? Since you’re already here,” Mark offers. “I can, uh, cook you something.”

“You can’t cook, though,” Donghyuck points out, but he comes inside nonetheless. 

“I learned how to do scrambled eggs some time ago,” Mark informs him, a little too proud of himself. “Toast got boring.”

“They say necessity is the mother of invention,” is the only reply he gets, but not half as snarky as Mark would have expected. Donghyuck sits down on the kitchen counter while Mark sets out to prepare the food. “You’re seriously cooking me scrambled eggs?”

“I mean, I’m cooking for myself,” Mark washes four eggs anyways, just in case. “I didn’t have breakfast yet.”

“Me neither,” Donghyuck admits. Mark bites back a comment that Donghyuck does that way too often nowadays, because it’s none of his business. Or, he wants it to be, but it’s not. “I’ll have some, too, then.”

Through the gift of divine intervention, Mark doesn’t burn the eggs. They eat on the floor, plates set on the coffee table. 

“So,” Mark says, putting his fork on the plate. “What’s with the sudden change of heart?”

“Hm?”

“The helmet,” Mark says. “I thought you didn’t want me anywhere near the thing.”

“It’s not like that,” Donghyuck huffs, “I never said that.”

“Sure,” Mark laughs. “I’m glad you came around, though. I’ve never been on one.”

“It’s cool,” Donghyuck tells him. “You free today?”

“Yeah, took the day off,” Mark says on his way to the kitchen to put the kettle on. “Tomorrow, too. Black, green or coffee?”

“Black’s fine,” Donghyuck replies. “With sugar.”

“I know.”

“Two spoons.”

“I know.”

“We can go today, then,” Donghyuck suggests when Mark sets their cups down.

“Sure,” Mark nods, sitting beside him. “Why did you even get that bike now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, why now?” He’s pushing his luck at this point. “You just randomly show up with a bike one day. Why?”

“No reason,” Donghyuck shrugs. “Felt like finally doing that I guess.”

Mark’s toes curl involuntarily.

“Why did you go do electronics?” Mark asks. For the last year of high school, he was living under the impression Donghyuck was going to do Psychology in university, with the aspiration of becoming Tversky 2.0. It was only after Donghyuck received his confirmation letter from the vocational college that Mark found out he even applied, that he gave up on Psychology whatsoever. 

“Fuck, Mark, what’s this?” Donghyuck deflects like he doesn’t know any better. “I do electronics ‘cause I like it. End of the story.”

“Why did you quit football in high school?” Mark continues. 

“Why do you even wanna know that?” Donghyuck crosses his arms, clearly frustrated with the situation.

“Because I wanna know _things_ about you,” Mark raises his voice in exasperation. “I wanna be the one person who knows things about you. I like knowing things about you, I know it sounds stupid, but I like it. The stupidest things, God, but the big ones, too. But you never tell me anything.”

“You don’t tell me things either,” Donghyuck snaps back.

“Yeah, like?”

“Like why you cornered Lucas about dating me for whatever idiotic reason you came up with,” Donghyuck is seething. “Like why you stopped coming to see me play. Like why you’ve been pissy about something all summer.”

“He told you about it?” Mark clenches his fists. _God_ , Lucas would get around in PPR. 

“That’s not important,” Donghyuck tells him. “What’s important is why you did that behind my back only to accuse me of not telling you things.”

“That’s different,” Mark argues. “I went to Lucas _because_ you wouldn’t talk to me. Because you don’t tell me anything.”

“Fuck, Mark, I have my reasons,” Donghyuck says. “I don’t tell you things when they are bad. Or stupid. Or they make me look like an idiot. Because you’re not gonna like me half as much when I tell you things.”

“I like everything about you,” Mark says.

“Fuck you,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “You don’t. You don’t have to tell me shit like that to make me feel better.”

“I like everything about you,” Mark repeats. “I’m annoyed by you sometimes, I get angry and so do you. But I always like you and everything that comes with it. And I wanna know more things about you, because I wanna like you even more than I already do.” 

“Oh, my God,” Donghyuck gasps out of nowhere, all wide eyes. Before Mark can ask what could have been as controversial as to elicit such a reaction, Donghyuck beats him to the chase. “Oh my god,” he repeats, quieter this time, “Mark, you love me, don’t you?”

Now, in the five years he’s liked Donghyuck, Mark considered the possibility that Donghyuck finds out, somehow. By accident, maybe, but Mark always thought he was clever enough to figure it out on his own. He thought of what he would do when it would come to this, when Donghyuck would confront him about his feelings. The most reasonable way out of it would be denial, but it never felt quite like the right path to follow through with. Because it’s _Donghyuck_ and Mark doesn’t lie to Donghyuck, not unless he has to.

“Yeah,” he nods, a little hesitant, shaky at first, but growing firm. There’s no doubt.

“No, I mean,” Donghyuck winces in frustration, “I asked if you were _in_ love with me.” 

“I know, I got it,” Mark says. “I am. In love with you.”

He always wondered what he’d sound like, saying that. Mark likes his own voice when he says it, likes how easy the words feel on his tongue. It’s calmer than he expected, Mark’s more collected than he ever remembers being in Donghyuck’s presence. He figures it’s because being in love with Donghyuck is something so obvious, so commonplace, that he got used to it already. 

Donghyuck — not so much. “Mark, I’m serious,” he is panicking. His eyes are shaking and he’s fiddling with the fork in his hands like he wants to stab something. Or someone. “I’m not joking, so—”

“—I’m not joking either,” Mark cuts in, voice still patient. “Why would I ever joke about something like that?” When Donghyuck doesn’t reply, he says again, “I love you. I’m sor—”

The fork falls from Donghyuck’s hand to the plate with a clank. “Why now?”

“Why now what?”

“Why are you telling me this _now_?” Donghyuck reiterates, face paler by the minute.

“Because…you asked,” Mark shrugs. It seemed obvious enough for someone as quick as Donghyuck to catch on without being told. 

“So…” Donghyuck swallows. Just getting the words past his throat seems strenuous and Mark begins to regret putting him in this situation. “So all this time, all I had to do was ask?”

“I don’t wanna lie to you,” Mark confirms, hands folded on his lap. He wants to reach out to Donghyuck, but he thinks he’s lost the privilege by now. “You don’t have to feel guilty, I never expected you to like me back, but—”

His rambling is cut off when Donghyuck lets out a sob. Then he breaks down entirely. Mark doesn’t know what to do, not used to having to take care of a crying Donghyuck, so he just watches him.

“Hyuck—” Mark starts when he seems to calm down slightly. 

“Sorry,” Donghyuck wipes his eyes and Mark wishes he could do that for him. “God, it’s…I just—I just didn’t think you’d ever love me back.”

Back. _Back_. 

“You…” Mark doesn’t know what to say. Maybe he misheard, he probably did, maybe it’s finally delirium tremens getting the better of him. “Back?”

Donghyuck scoffs, eyes red and face swollen. Mark will never love anyone more. “Back.”

“Back _back_?”

“Back.”

“Back…”

“ _Back_.”

“Holy shit,” Mark says. Donghyuck just looks at him like he’s stupid. But he’s smiling, so Mark doesn’t really care. 

They don’t go on a bike trip together in the end, but it’s okay, because they have two more months of summer left. Instead, they lie together. Mark’s head is on Donghyuck’s chest, sometimes it’s Donghyuck’s on Mark’s. Their legs are intertwined and they don’t talk much. All the things Mark is curious about, all the when-s and why-s, are meaningless in the moment. The only thing that matters is Donghyuck’s fingers in his hair, the brush of his nose against Mark’s neck, their hands wound together over Donghyuck’s chest. At five p.m., the sirens ring like they always do on the first; it wakes up Donghyuck from his afternoon nap and Mark hates the uprising even more than he did.

Before Mark realises, it’s dark. 

“Stay with me?” He asks. Donghyuck just nods and brings them closer.

Mark doesn’t notice when the clock strikes twelve, too lost in Donghyuck to care, but Donghyuck does. He mumbles, “happy birthday,” and then, “I love you.”

“That your gift for me?” Mark teases. “I’m not twenty yet.”

“It’s the second,” Donghyuck yawns.

“I was born at three a.m.,” Mark tells him, “I’m still nineteen.”

“Okay. I love you regardless,” Donghyuck says. 

“I love it when you say it first,” Mark says. It makes him feel like Donghyuck means it. 

“Do you love _me_ , though?” Donghyuck asks, voice frustrated.

“More than anything,” Mark says. They fall asleep at one point and Mark prays that Donghyuck is still there in the morning. 

He is. He’s the first thing Mark sees when he’s woken up to his phone vibrating. Donghyuck stirs in his arms, but Mark shushes him back to sleep. He goes outside on the balcony to pick up the call, watching Donghyuck sleep through the window. 

“Good morning?” Mark says politely, because the number is unknown. He can see Donghyuck’s motorcycle parked across the street. 

_“Good morning, I’m calling on behalf of Makro Cash & Carry Polska, could I bother you with a couple of questions?” _Mark is about to hang up, because the last thing he wants to do is be bothered with a couple of questions, but in the last second, something clicks. He knows that voice.

“Jeno, this you?” Mark asks.

_“Mark?”_ Jeno replies. _“Hi, oh, my God, what a coincidence. I didn’t even recognise your number, wow! Happy birthday, by the way.”_

“Thanks, but let’s not mention that.” Mark knew Jeno worked at a call centre, but this feels a little surreal. “Jesus, Jen, how are you, _mordo_? How’s the hand?”

_“Good, good,”_ Jeno laughs. _“I just have to wear this thing on my wrist, but it’s not plaster or anything. Hey, how often do you buy groceries at Makro Cash and Carry Polska?”_

“How did it even happen?” Mark asks. “And I never do groceries at Makro, I don’t own a company.”

_“Man, I was just walking, but I was so tired after the pilgrimage shit, so my legs just gave up on me at one point,”_ Jeno tells him. _“Jasna Góra, more like Jasna Cholera, you feel…”_

“Preach, yeah, fuck Kmicic,” Mark grins. “How are you, though, I haven’t seen you all summer?”

_“Same old, really,”_ Jeno says. _“Miss you guys a lot, we should meet up finally. Oh, and how likely is your company to seek service from Makro Cash and Carry Polska?”_

“I still don’t own a company, so I guess zero. Real shit, though, I’m gonna storm your house or some shit while your mom’s at her daily mass,” Mark says. “When do you get off actually? When Hyuck wakes up, we could pick you up or some shit, hit up a bar if you feel like it?”

_“Oh, man, I think it’s laundry day today,”_ Jeno sighs. _“Tomorrow?”_

“Cool, I’ll let the others know.”

_“How would you rate the products offered by Makro Cash and Carry Polska on a scale from one to ten in terms of quality?”_ Jeno adds, _“wait, you said Donghyuck’s here?”_

“I have never tried a single thing from Makro, so you can give it a wishful seven,” Mark replies. “Yeah, he stayed over last night. He’s asleep, though.”

Donghyuck must have some kind of sixth sense going on for him, because he wakes up as soon as he’s mentioned. He sits up, stretching his neck, and looks around the room in search of Mark. Mark knocks on the window and waves to Donghyuck when he turns around. 

_“How are you and Donghyuck, by the way?”_ Jeno asks. _“Jaemin said you two have been all over the place these days.”_

“We’re good,” Donghyuck gives Mark a small smile and waves back. “You wouldn’t believe how good we are.”

*

The flat Mark lives in is on the first of fourteen floors of his block. On the fourteenth one, there’s a few flats and windows facing north, high enough to let Mark enjoy the city skyline from the perfect distance. He’d come there sometimes when his parents still lived together, just to see the sun set over the city centre, watch the strokes of colour paint over the sky, in yellow, pink and purple. 

When Donghyuck first stayed over at his flat a few years back, Mark took him there. Donghyuck seemed impressed, took a few photos until he saw something that caught his interest more. 

“Can you go to the rooftop?” Mark recalls Donghyuck asking, his eyes trained on the door with a no entry warning painted over it. 

“No,” he replied. “The door’s locked, I tried.” 

Donghyuck had never been one to take Mark’s word for granted, so he tried his luck with the door knob. To no avail. Mark mumbled a tired _I told you so_ under his breath, which was met with a quick glare and a disappointed huff from Donghyuck. He was always rather endearing when on the receiving side of Mark’s teasing, so Mark had to bite back the amused grin. 

It’s still rather unbelievable to Mark that just four years later he’s at the same door with Donghyuck, now as his boyfriend, and said boyfriend is picking the lock with worrying dexterity. 

“Where did you even learn that?” He asks Donghyuck, who’s been fiddling with the lock for less than a minute when it finally eases. 

“WikiHow,” Donghyuck answers, holding the door open for Mark. “After you.”

Mark knows better than to be surprised at this point — it would be more shocking if Donghyuck didn’t know how to pick a lock — but it’s attractive nonetheless. He tries not to think about it too hard climbing up the ladder leading outside. 

The metal trapdoor doesn’t need much tampering with, he unscrews the bolts one by one with Donghyuck’s big bad wrench. Donghyuck has way too many of those, but Mark guesses his obsession with tools is some sort of occupational hazard. Still, he was the one voluntarily listening to Donghyuck tell him about the discrepancies between the different types of wrenches the other night, so, really, Mark’s the problem. 

He climbs out first and Donghyuck follows soon after, letting Mark pull him up. The younger lets himself fall into Mark’s chest, stumbling a little to find balance and swaying them side to side. The view is almost entirely covered up by ventilation airways, TV satellites and metal railings but you can still get a good look at things. Still, Mark’s only here to look at Donghyuck at this point so he doesn’t care that much. 

“We need to get rich somehow,” Donghyuck says. “We gotta get rich and get one of those flats with that kinda view.”

“You wanna live together?” Mark smiles, hands rested comfortably on Donghyuck’s waist. 

“Haven’t we been doing that already?” Donghyuck reasons and he might just be onto something. Ever since they got together, Donghyuck spends more time than not at Mark’s flat. He stays over even when Mark’s at work during the week, which the latter is more than in favour of given that Donghyuck likes to entertain himself with cooking the two of them lunch. He says it’s payment for letting him live at Mark’s place rent free; he would have told Donghyuck not to bother since he already lives in Mark’s mind rent free, but Donghyuck’s pierogi are better than ones from the Żabka frozen food selection. And Mark’s a weak man. 

“Lia’s doing law, Ryujin’s doing medicine,” Mark muses. “They’re gonna be rich. They can get us a flat.”

“Do you wanna try renting something out this year?” Donghyuck asks. Summer is coming to an end and soon enough Mark’s dad will be coming back to Warsaw. In the back of Mark’s head, the only viable option was moving back home with his mother, the lesser evil choice between his parents. 

The thought of living with Donghyuck, however, is as inviting as it is surreal. 

“I’ll have to talk about it with my mom,” Mark sighs. “God, we’re gonna be the closeted gay family members who live with their roommates at fifty.”

“Do you mind?” Donghyuck asks tentatively. 

“No. You?”

“Neither,” they smile. Then Donghyuck kisses him. Then they smile some more.

Mark takes off his jacket and lays it down on the ground for the two of them to sit on. He ends up with his head on Donghyuck’s lap, though, because he can. Donghyuck plays with his hair, brushing loose strands out of his eyes. 

“It’s pretty here,” Donghyuck says.

“Here roof?”

“Here Warsaw,” Donghyuck clarifies. Mark nods. “Tell me a fun Anthropology fact.”

“Neanderthals didn’t have chins,” Mark tells him. 

“And you say your degree is useless. Let’s stay here for the night?” Donghyuck suggests.

“It’s gonna get cold.”

“It’s summer, Mark.”

“What if birds shit on us?”

“Do birds shit in the night?” 

“I don’t know,” Mark shrugs. With the way Donghyuck is looking at him, it’s not like he can say no, “fine, God.”

Mark still doesn’t think Donghyuck loves him most of the time. They talk about it now, though, because they have an honesty policy going on in their relationship. 

“Why would I lie to you about it?” Donghyuck says incredulously after Mark explains what he finds to be his insecurity. “No, ‘cause much as I can kinda understand you not believing it before, when we were just friends, why would I lie about being in love with you? Even I’m not that fucked up.”

Mark can see exactly how, though. Maybe Donghyuck thinks it’s his only shot at really being loved, having something stable. Maybe Donghyuck doesn’t even realise he needs Mark more than he wants him, maybe Donghyuck lies to himself about his feelings because he doesn’t think he deserves any better. It’s not that far-fetched, really, when Mark’s been doing that in all of his previous relationships, having thought Donghyuck was out of reach. 

When Mark tells him that, Donghyuck gives him that look Mark used to think meant he was annoyed; these days, though, it’s followed by Donghyuck kissing him, so maybe Mark’s been reading him wrong. Now is no different, he moves his head from where it’s rested on Mark’s forearm to press a faint kiss to his forehead, then to his lips. Donghyuck’s leg is hooked over his waist and Mark doesn’t ever want to move from here. 

“I’m scared, too,” Donghyuck says, playing with Mark’s fingers, “you know? Of _this_.”

“What about _this_?” Mark asks.

“That you’re gonna stop,” Donghyuck holds his breath, “loving me. When you figure me out completely.”

All throughout middle and high school, Mark wanted to study English. It was something he was good at, he participated in every English competition year after year. It won him countless certificates his mom puts in a binder, two iPods, a free pass into high school and then a free pass into university, were he to study anything to do with English or humanities. So he entertained that option for a while, but majoring in English is probably even worse of a career choice than Anthropology. 

There used to be a time where he could recite grammar rules for each of the sixteen tenses woken up in the middle of the night. (Not a joke, his mom woke him up in the middle of the night at least a few times to make sure he knows when to use his future in the past perfect continuous.) He barely remembers any of those now, but he remembers present simple. 

It’s used to state facts. Example: Mark loves Donghyuck. It’s used when referring to an action or event taking place habitually. Example: Mark always loves Donghyuck. It’s used in providing commentary on events as they occur. Example: Donghyuck smiles at Mark. Mark loves Donghyuck. It’s used in both clauses of the zero conditional, which is used to describe general truths. Example: When Donghyuck exists, Mark loves him.

It always boils down to the same thing, though, his love for Donghyuck. Present simple. Present and simple. 

So Mark laughs. He laughs so hard Donghyuck has to slap his chest a couple of times to get him to stop. “What’s so funny?” Donghyuck grumbles, pinching Mark’s ear in annoyance. 

“That you think I could stop,” Mark smiles. “I loved you all this time thinking I’d never go anywhere with this. Why would I stop now that I have everything?”

“I’m everything?”

“ _We’re_ everything,” Mark says, because for the first time in his life, he’s in control of himself. “Real shit, though, I’m always gonna love you, no matter what.”

“Why did you?” Donghyuck asks. “Like me, when you thought I didn’t?”

“I like being in love with you,” Mark says. “It’s one of the things I know for sure about myself. About anything really. And…”

“And?”

“You’re a little too hard to get over,” he says. Donghyuck holds his hand again. “Why’d you get that motorcycle, if we’re being honest?”

“Haven’t you figured that out yet?” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “I got it to impress you.” 

They end up going back home at two a.m. in the morning, because Donghyuck gets cold. Mark says _I told you so_ when they take the lift back to his flat. Donghyuck whines something about Mark being mean and Mark can pull him close and tuck his head to his neck like he’s always wanted, so that’s what he does. If Donghyuck doesn’t love him, Mark doesn’t really care. He doesn’t want to know. As long as Donghyuck is his for as long as he stays, Mark is good with just loving him in the open. 

Him and Donghyuck were always different, after all. 

*

_‘…After dinner, I was looking for a used envelope to send this back to you and I found your envelope, and then saw your letter inside. We were late for dinner and I just glanced to see how you finish it. And I saw the words ‘Yours, as ever’ and I had goose bumps from emotion.”’_

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading!!
> 
> [current world issues](https://issuesintheworld.carrd.co)  
> [black lives matter](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co)  
> [lgbtq+ in poland](https://lgbtqpl.carrd.co)


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